A Legacy of Evil
by Marsea Brooklyn
Summary: Marsea Brooklyn is a normal teenage girl, until she discovers that her past holds a secret that could ruin her life. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the great JK Rowling does.
1. Prologue: A Nightmare

A Legacy of Evil   
by Marsea Brooklyn  
  
Prologue  
  
The windows rattled as thunder shook the frame of the white two-story house. Marsea Brooklyn awoke from a dreamless sleep, covered in sweat. She did not know how, because her bedroom was as cold as ice, and she hadn't had a nightmare; she hadn't dreamt about much of anything. She hadn't really had a true dream-filled sleep in as many years as she could remember, ever since she had been alienated in school, ever since her friends had turned against her.  
  
Marsea had always been popular in school. That was, until weird things started happening to her. She couldn't explain why, but for some reason bad things seemed to happen to those people who vexed her. Everyone had taken to avoiding her in the halls after a girl who had spilled soda on Marsea at lunch had mysteriously sprouted off facial hair. Marsea didn't know what had happened, but the others at school were certain that somehow she had done it; they called her a witch.  
  
Since that day she had not been able to sleep normally. She had visions in her dreams of serpents and evil; she dreamt of things that would make any sensible fifteen year-old cringe, but she didn't mind them. The demons were the only things she knew that wouldn't run away from her, scared that she would curse them. She had never felt so alone in her life. She knew in her heart that she was nothing more than a teenage girl. She was no more capable of cursing her classmates than any of them were of cursing her. In fact, they did far more harm with their frightened glances and accusatory glares than she ever could in a whole lifetime.  
  
Her room filled with shadows as a bolt of lightning hit nearby; the resulting thunder was almost deafening. The ancient house shook on its foundation and her window banged open, allowing the storm to send sprays of water into the already freezing bedroom.  
  
Shivering from head to toe, Marsea slipped out of bed, the cold floor stinging her almost numb toes. She padded noiselessly over to the window, pulling it shut and banishing the storm from her bedroom. She stood at the window for a moment, watching the tempest outside. She had loved storms ever since she was a young girl. She was amazed by their awesome power and unmatched strength. She had a bit of that power in herself, needing only to discover it. This she knew.  
  
She started to turn away from the window but thought that she saw something, slipping through the shadows among the trees, a short distance away from her window. She stood, frozen, for a while, searching the shadows for more movement, her heartbeats quickening. She felt as though it would jump out of her chest and land on the windowsill. When nothing moved, she turned away from the window, closing the curtains to block out the storm and the ominous darkness.  
  
Her feet now completely numb, she crawled back into her bed, the cold sheets stinging her legs. She lay back onto her pillow and pulled the blankets up to her chin, trying to block out the sinking feeling that was in the pit of her stomach.  
  
She closed her eyes, imagining sounds that she couldn't really hear, slowly drifting off into unconsciousness....  
  
She was in a place that she had never seen. A bedroom, she assumed, since she was lying in a bed. The room was enormous, even bigger than her own, and the bed in which she lay was highly decorated. It was a large four-poster, with a velvet canopy draped over top. Marsea tried to sit up, but couldn't move. Someone or something had a tight grip on her arms. She stared at the canopy, which was dark green with silver coiled as though weaving in and out of the fabric itself. The thick oak bedposts were also snakes, whose cruel faces were pointed at her, their mouths open, ready to strike. She couldn't see the rest of the room. It was so large that portions of it disappeared into shadows. She wondered what horrible beasts were in those corners, ready to attack her as she lay defenseless.  
  
She watched in horror as the silver serpents above her head began to move, slithering, hissing at each other, exposing their forked tongues. The wooden bedpost snakes began to snap at her ankles, their fangs glistening as she curled up into a ball, whimpering.   
  
She screamed, but made a sound that she had never heard before. She snakes froze at once, watching her. Her frightened blue eyes flashed, and the room dissolved around her. She awoke, once again in her own bed.  
  
The rain had stopped, but thunder still continued to rattle the glass of her window. Marsea was trembling, but she felt warmer than before. She swallowed, realizing that her throat was completely parched. She crawled out of bed and tiptoed to the doorway, reaching for the handle. She had the vague notion that the doorknob might turn into a serpent and bite her hand, but she brushed it away. After all, it had only been a nightmare.  
  
She exited her bedroom and padded down the dark staircase into the foyer. Flashes of lightning continued to illuminate the house and cast eerie shadows on the walls. She noticed that the front door was unlocked. Cursing her forgetful brother, she bolted it and stalked into the kitchen.  
  
After pouring herself a glass of water, she walked quickly back to the staircase, thankful for the carpet that shielded her feet from the cold wooden floors below.  
  
Lightning flashed again. The light enveloped the stairwell, and for the first time Marsea noticed the spots of burgundy liquid that were beginning to soak into the white carpet. She bent down for a closer look as another bang of thunder shook the house.  
  
CRASH.  
  
She had dropped her water glass, which shattered on the wood floor of the foyer.   
  
Her heart quickened again. Breathing heavily, she followed the red stains to the top of the stairs and down the dark hallway toward the other bedrooms. The white stucco walls were splattered with red. The color was beginning to blur her vision as she stumbled down the hallway.   
  
The door to her brother's bedroom was ajar. In a daze, Marsea pushed it open with trembling hands and cautiously stepped inside.  
  
The scene with which her eyes met is not one that she is likely to forget. The whitewashed bedroom was covered in blood, and her brother's white bedspread looked like some sort of grotesque tye-dye. He was lying in the center of it, eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling, dead.  
  
Marsea backed out of the room, trembling from head to toe. The stains continued down the hallway toward her mother's room, but she didn't follow them, knowing what she would inevitably find.  
  
Her vision was becoming even more of a fog, and she had one clear thought. 'Get out of there.'  
  
She ran down the stairs, fumbled with the deadbolt in the front door, and, managing to get it open, she waded into the cold night air.  
  
Once clear of her porch she ran, stumbling over rocks and branches, ducking subconsciously every time lightening struck overhead.   
  
She sprinted through the small forest behind her house, seeing demons in every shadow, and sure that she was being followed. She reached a large moor a mile from Brooklyn mansion, which was illuminated by the storm overhead.   
  
The rain started again, the large drops soaking her pyjamas and making the ground slippery, but she continued to run. Her pace was slowing, however, and she had to gasp for breath she felt her lungs constrict.  
  
She doubled over, falling to her knees on the saturated ground. Darkness was closing in around her as she felt her consciousness slipping away.   
  
She collapsed onto her back, still wheezing, gagging on the rain that choked her.  
  
Her last sight (though she thought she might have been hallucinating) was a human figure swooping down from the sky and landing next to her.  
Then the darkness enveloped her consciousness and she passed out, the storm still raging overhead.  
  
**Hello! Thank you for reading my story. This was just the prologue to a story that I have begun but not finished. If anyone reads and reviews it, I will post more, and I PROMISE that it will be an HP fic. I have big plans. Trust me. Thanks again, and feel free to email me at cowgirl_marsea@yahoo.com. ~*Marsea Brooklyn*~**  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. 

Chapter 1: Discoveries  
  
"What is it? A muggle?"  
  
"No, not hardly. But I've never seen her before."  
  
"You reckon she's foreign?"  
  
Marsea had awoken to the sound of voices ringing in her ears, thoroughly disoriented. She blinked once, twice, and the room came into focus. She was in a hospital of some sort, but a very odd one. The ceilings were high, and not white. They were covered in the most beautiful colors she had ever seen; it was almost as though they were not real. There were shades of burgundy, purples, blues, all mixed together in a sunset of fire. She stared up for a moment, unblinking, feeling herself be absorbed by the swirling reds.   
  
The voices continued, reality flooding back into her.  
  
"Where did you find her?"  
  
"Out near Hobbywillow, right smack dab in the center of Brooklyn moor. It's good I got there when I did; she was half dead, she was."  
  
"Well, she seems better now. Have a look."  
  
Marsea had sat up in her bed, staring vacantly at the two men in the room. One, who was older and had a beard to rival Santa Claus,' strode over to her bed.   
  
"Hullo then," he said, smiling. "How are we doing?"  
  
She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. She clutched her throat; it felt as if someone had tied a rope around her voice box.  
  
"Oh!" A younger, red-haired scurried to the side of her bed, extracting what appeared to be a wand from the long cloak he was wearing. She recoiled away from him, but he pointed the stick at her throat, mumbled something that certainly wasn't English, and the pressure around her throat loosened.   
  
"Sorry, Miss." He said apologetically. "Had to silence you, you were wailing like a banshee in your sleep. Nightmares, I reckon."  
  
Marsea was confused. "If, erm," she tested her voice. "If you don't mind, could I ask who you are, and where I am?"  
  
"I suppose that would be acceptable," said the old man, eyes twinkling. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am Headmaster here. You, my dear, have found yourself at 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'"  
  
Now she was no longer confused. She was dumbfounded. "I'm WHERE?" she smiled nervously. "Come on, there's no such place. This is some kind of joke."  
  
Dumbledore frowned. "I assure you, I am not joking."  
The red-haired man looked quizzically at Dumbledore. "Really, Sir. She must be a muggle."  
  
"A what?" asked Marsea dumbly. She knew she must have still been dreaming, none of this made any sense. Witches did not exist, and they certainly didn't have their own school.  
  
"She has no muggle blood in her, Arnold." Said Dumbledore, shaking his head slowly. "She's as magical as you or I, though I fear she may not have been informed." He looked kindly at Marsea. "Now, what is your name?"  
  
She shifted uneasily. Half of her was unsure of whether to tell her name to people whom she had never met, especially not ones that were rambling on about 'muggles' and magic; and half of her was indignant that they didn't already know who she was. Her family was one of the wealthiest in England, they had an American city named after them!  
  
Her pride got the best of her. "Marsea." She said proudly. "Marsea Brooklyn."  
  
"Oh dear." Said Dumbledore thoughtfully, glancing at Arnold, who wore the same unreadable expression, "Brooklyn is your mother's name, is it not?"  
  
Her proud air blew away, and she shivered. "How did you know that?"  
  
Dumbledore didn't answer her. "You father, where is he?"   
  
"Gone." Said Marsea sadly. "He- he disappeared about the same time I was born. I live with my-" She looked down, the night's events flooding back to her. "I lived with my mother and brother. But- I think they're dead now."  
  
It was the Arnold's turn to say "Oh dear. What happened?"  
  
She recalled the night's events to them in vivid detail. She didn't cry, but shook violently when she remembered how the burgundy stains had been so clear on the white walls and carpet. And her brother, she had cursed him for leaving the door unlocked, and he had probably already been dead, unless... Unless the murderer had still been in the house when she had gone downstairs... Why hadn't she been killed? She wondered for the first time. I her whole family had been slain, why hadn't she?  
  
The men looked at her sadly when she finished. Dumbledore spoke first.  
"How are you feeling now, Physically?"  
  
"I'm all right, I guess. I was tired earlier, but now I am not. I just, I don't know why this happened to me."  
  
"I have a few things to tell you." Said Dumbledore slowly. "If you're feeling up to hearing them, I mean. But you are going to need to believe me, and accept what I say, even if it seems farfetched."  
  
Marsea nodded.   
  
Suddenly two chairs appeared behind the two men and they sat down.   
  
Dumbledore turned to the red-haired man. "You may leave if you wish, Arnold. I know you have had a very long night, and I appreciate all that you've done."  
  
"If it's all the same, I'd like to stay. That is, if you don't mind, Marsea." He turned and looked at her.  
  
"No, 'course not." She said, not really listening.  
  
"Very well then," said Dumbledore, sighing. He began.  
  
"A long time ago there were four very powerful people. They were magical, wizards to be precise. As am I, and Arnold here, and as are you, Marsea. Well, you are a witch." He paused, noting the look of disbelief on Marsea's face. "Yes, Marsea, you are a witch, although your mother would rather you weren't, but, back to the story. These four wizards were the most powerful in the world, and they were each quite different. They each valued very different personality traits, but they came together with a common goal: to build the school in which we now sit, 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' This school has been for hundreds of years the largest school of wizardry in Europe." He beamed proudly as he continued. "The four founders of this schooleach left their mark on the Hogwarts that still exists today.   
  
"Godric Gryffindor, who valued bravery and Chivalry above all else, formed a house within the school in which students who exhibit these qualities reside. Rowena Ravenclaw, who valued knowledge and logical thinking, did the same. Helga Hufflepuff valued hard work and honesty above all else, and the students of Hufflepuff house are probably the kindest people you'll ever meet. On the other hand, the final house holds students of the, er, opposite caliber."  
  
Marsea looked at him. "Are they mean?"  
  
Dumbldore smiled. "The founder was Salazar Slytherin, who valued ambition and cunning. To him -and to the Slytherin students- power is the ultimate goal, and they will often use any means necessary to acquire what they desire." He smiled at his rhyme.  
  
"Slytherin has turned out more dark wizards than all of the other houses combined," added Arnold Weasley, looking disgusted.  
  
"Arnold was a Gryffindor," said Dumbledore, still smiling. "Gryffindors and Slytherins have historically not been the best of friends."  
  
"Well no wonder," spat Arnold. "With gits like those Malfoys coming out of that damn house-"  
  
"Arnold-" Warned Dumbledore, his smile fading.  
  
But Marsea wasn't listening. "Malfoy?" she asked. "Did you say Malfoy? As is Lucius Malfoy?"  
  
"Do you know the family?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
"Yes, Lucius is my mum's friend. And his wife, Narcissa, she is my mum's friend too. They- they used to go shopping together. The Malfoys have a son. He's my age, but I've never met him. They said he went to some boarding school, right?"  
  
"Draco is a student here. Your mother for some reason didn't want you to learn witchcraft, sop she must have told the Malfoys to keep it from you as well. They are a ver prominent wizarding family, as is yours, Miss Brooklyn."  
  
Marsea smiled at hearing that her family was 'prominent,' but her smile faded quickly. "But why did my mum keep this from me? And my brother, too. Surely he didn't know."  
  
"I'm not sure, Miss Brooklyn." Dumbledore tried to look sincere, but she couldn't help but think that he was hiding something from her. He stood up quickly. "I'm sure that there are Ministry wizards at your home this very instant investigating your situation, but I think that now you should really get some sleep. We'll figure it all out in the morning."  
  
Marsea yawned. She hadn't realized how tired she was. The two men bid her 'Goodnight' and walked out of the room, and at the same time a tired-looking nurse popped in.   
  
"Have they finally left you to sleep?" she huffed.  
  
"Er, yeah." Smiled Marsea. The nurse snapped and the lights went out. Leaving Marsea alone in the darkness. She lay in bed, trying not to think of her family, trying to think of other things, but one thought kept coming into her head. 'What was the old man hiding?'  
  
After what must have been an hour, she finally fell into a dreamless sleep.  
  
  
*** Okay, well that's Chapter 1 or 2. It depends on if you count the prologue as a chapter. Thanks to all of who read and reviewed it. I hope that more people get into this story, it'll get interesting, I promise.  
Next Chapter: We introduce Draco Malfoy, and learn more about Marsea's past. What house will she be in? How will she like school? Will she be able to learn all that she's missed? Who killed her family? Is she really as prissy as she appears? Find out soon!   



	3. 

Chapter 3: A New Addition  
  
  
Marsea awoke the next morning again to the sounds of voices above her head. She opened her eyes to see the serious-looking nurse bent over her, frowning.  
  
"She's awake again, Professor." She said, very matter-of-factly, and the tall, bespectacled man that she had met the previous day strolled over to her.  
  
"Well good morning, Miss Brooklyn. I trust you slept well?" He smiled.  
  
She nodded.   
  
"Are you hungry?" he asked, kindly.  
  
She nodded again, feeling her stomach growl.  
  
Dumbledore waved his hand and suddenly a plate of sandwiches appeared next to her bed, along with a goblet and a jug of what appeared to be-  
  
"Pumpkin juice?" she grinned. "It's my favorite!"  
  
She helped herself to the sandwiches and juice and soon was no longer hungry.  
  
Dumbledore took a sandwich for himself and smiled brightly as he polished the last bit of egg salad on his lip. "Well then, Miss Brooklyn. You have gone far too long without your education, I think."  
  
She looked up at him. "Education? But I went to the most expensive school in London- oh," she looked embarrassed. "You mean-"  
  
"Yes, Marsea, I do believe that you are ready to join the ranks of Hogwarts School. That is, unless you object-"  
  
"Oh, no! I'd love it! Imagine, me doing magic?" Her blue eyes brightened.  
  
"Very well. Let's start you today." He smiled, and lifted his wand to his throat. "Sonorus," he said slowly. I was almost as though a microphone had been turned on. Marsea could hear his voice echoing throughout the whole school.  
"Will all the students and faculty members please report to the Great Hall immediately? Classes are momentarily dismissed, thank you." He pointed to his throat again, muttered "Finite Incantatum," and the microphone was unplugged. "Shall we then?" he held his hand out to Marsea, who took it, and hopped out of bed.  
  
"Wait!" she said, "I can't go out there looking like this." She pointed to herself, and her bed-hair.  
  
Smiling, he pointed his wand at her, said "Perfectus," and she looked as though she had spent hours primping, not that she ever did. She nodded, and they walked out of the hospital wing.   
  
*** Meanwhile ***  
  
I was sitting through an especially dull potions class, staring blankly ahead at Professor Severus Snape. He was stalking around the class, waiting for someone to mess up and make their cauldron explode or turn orange or some nonsense like that. Usually someone would satisfy Snape's cruel plan, and Snape would smile coldly, banishing the offender to detention. I would laugh, of course; it was funny, after all.  
  
Today the unfortunate dolt was Neville Longbottom, who had melted so many cauldrons that he had to start buying them in bulk. I often wonder how idiots like that can even get into this school. Of course, I've always believed that we should be a bit more selective about who get accepted.  
  
Snape wound his way past Longbottom, who was near tears, and strolled slowly over to the cauldron that I was sharing with my two best friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Well, I suppose their my best friends, since I don't really have any others. People seem to be intimidated by me.  
  
"Very good, Malfoy." Hissed Snape. "You're an example that I'd hope everyone would follow."  
  
He directed that last comment toward Longbottom and his entourage, which consisted of Hermione Granger, who is of muggle parentage, (she's one of those people who shouldn't be admitted that I spoke of). Also Ronald Weasley, who is as poor as I am wealthy, and the 'famous' Harry Potter, whom I absolutely detest. He is the biggest brown-nosing phony that you could ever hope to meet. It drives me insane.  
  
Potter and Weasley snorted at that last comment about my proficiency in potions, and I smirked. "Oh don't be jealous, Potter. I'm sure there's SOMEthing you're good at. Maybe you'll find a way to manufacture galleons so Weasley's family can afford some decent clothing." I sneered. Taunting them is my favorite pastime.  
  
Weasley's eyes narrowed. "With as much money as your family's got, you should be able to afford some manners."  
  
I grinned, what a comeback. I lowered my voice, "You'll need more than half-witted retorts to save you when the Dark Lord rises again. Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first, you know."  
  
They shrunk back into their chairs. I really know how to quiet those dolts. Of course, I doubted that any of the Weasleys would be in a whole mess of danger when the dark lord returned; they were an old wizarding family. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, however, were fair game. Voldemort had been after Potter for years, and it's a good thing, too, except that the whole mess seemed to have cursed Potter with nothing more than an overly-swollen head.  
  
I was chuckling to myself when Dumbledore's voice boomed throughout the school. Apparently, we were supposed to gather in the Great Hall. 'I hope there's been another mudbood death.' I thought cruelly. I never told you I was a nice guy.  
  
Snape scowled, but nevertheless he led up through the cold dungeons to the main castle. I could hear Pansy Parkinson's shrill giggle behind me as we ascended the stairs. No doubt she and the wolf pack that followed her were discussing me; Pansy had been practically stalking me since first year, and ever since I had agreed to go with her to last year's Yule Ball, she had been nearly unbearable. It was almost as though she thought that we were dating. She even tried to hold my hand once. I almost hurled.  
  
We filed into the Great Hall and took seats at our house tables. Potter, Weasley and Granger were still glaring at me as they marched over to the Gryffindor table and I sat down at Slytherin.  
  
"I wonder what this is all about." Said Pansy happily as she sat down next to me.  
  
I stared blankly at her. "I don't know, but you just took Goyle's seat." I pointed at the chair on which she had seated her overly-large bum.  
  
Pansy looked appalled. She mumbled incoherently and stood up, tears welling up in her eyes. Goyle pushed her out of the way and sat down. I smirked as Pansy found a seat further down, away from me.  
  
A moment later, Dumbledore entered the hall, followed by an extremely nervous-looking blonde, who shuffled her feet as she stood next to Dumbledore in front of the hall.   
  
"Who's that?" Grunted Goyle next to me.  
  
"I don't know." I said nonchalantly. "But I hope she's transferring in." She wasn't bad looking, after all, and I am a guy.  
  
She was staring at the ground, but looked up momentarily and surveyed the mass of people who had grown quiet the moment that she and Dumbledore had walked in.  
  
It only took me a moment to realize that she was not pretty. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her blue eyes cut into my soul when they landed on me. (Oh no, I'm sounding like a cheesy romance novel, I better quit while I still sound like a tough guy.)  
  
***  
  
Marsea looked around the crowded room. 'What have I gotten myself into?' she asked herself. 'These people are not like me, they'll hate me.' Then it dawned on her that the people were more like her than the ones she had gone to school with for 10 years.   
  
The room was full of people, but almost completely silent. What noise was still going on completely ceased when Dumbledore spoke.  
  
"Hello Students, I truly hope that you will not be overly disappointed to miss a portion of your lessons." There were a few chuckles. "I felt it was necessary to bring you together to tell you about a new student." He looked at Marsea and smiled. "Now as you all know, we normally just 'slip' the new students into classes without announcing their arrival formally, but I felt that this young lady deserves an introduction. Her name is Marsea Brooklyn, and she will be joining the Fifth Years." There was a slight murmur though the crowd, which stopped quickly. "Now, as you all may know, Marsea has an interesting story to tell. She is the only member of the Brooklyn family not to attend this school from year one, and there is a very good reason for that, I'm sure. Unfortunately I am not sure what it is. In any case, I am sure that Miss Brooklyn will quickly catch up to the rest of you in her studies, and become just like one of you."  
  
Marsea smiled slightly.   
  
"Well Miss Brooklyn," said Dumbledore, turning to her. "I do believe it is time for you to learn of your fate."  
  
"My- my fate?" she mumbled.  
  
"Yes. Oh, Professor McGonagall," he called to a severe-looking woman standing about twenty feet from him.   
  
"Yes sir?" she called as she walked over.  
  
"The hat, please?"  
  
"Oh, yes. I brought it down already."  
  
'Hat?' thought Marsea. 'What does a hat have to do with my fate?'  
  
The stern woman walked to the back of the room and returned carrying a small footstool and a very tattered-looking wizard's hat. She sat the stool down in front of Marsea and placed the hat on top of it.  
  
Marsea looked up at Dumbledore, confused.  
  
"Okay, Miss Brooklyn." He said slowly. "Simply sit on the stool and place the hat on your head. It will tell you and all of us which of the four houses you are to be placed in."  
  
"Really? How does it do that?" she whispered.  
  
"It's very smart. It can read the deepest inner workings and thoughts of your brain." He smiled.  
  
Her mouth formed a little "O" of surprise. She wasn't sure if she wanted anything reading the deepest thoughts of her brain. Nevertheless, she sat down on the stool and slipped the tattered old hat over her head. It fell past her eyes, and everything was dark.  
  
"Hello." Said a little voice in her head. "Hmmm... Where should I put you, Miss Brooklyn?"  
  
"How do you know my name?" Marsea thought.  
  
"Ahhh, I know everything, Miss Brooklyn. I also know that you are very brave, and would do quite well in Gryffindor. I also believe that Ravenclaw would help you along your path to greatness. You have much knowledge in your head, Miss Brooklyn. Believe me, I'm in it, and it's quite cramped in here. However, you have precious little Hufflepuff in you, my dear, and I see a need deep inside you to prove yourself greater than anyone else. Miss Brooklyn, I do believe that you belong in  
  
SLYTHERIN!" The hat cried, and Marsea felt it being lifted off of her head, and light flooded her eyes.  
  
"Okay, Miss Brooklyn." Said Dumbledore, with a noticeable frown on his face. "The Slytherin table is that green one over there." He pointed to a long table on the left side of the room. "Please go join them. I'm sure they will escort you to your class, and show you around." He pushed her toward the table. She glanced back, wondering why he was acting less than warmly toward her.  
  
A pale, blonde boy stood up as the walked slowly toward the table. "Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy." He drawled, smiling.  



	4. Who's That Girl?

Chapter 4:   
  
  
***  
I nearly had a heart attack when Dumbledore announced the blonde girl's name. I knew her. Well, at least I knew of her. Her mother was one of my mother's closest friends, but I had never met Marsea in person, I had only heard about her. The rumor was that she wasn't allowed into the magical world because complications in birth had led her to be completely non-magical. Her mother told us that she didn't want Marsea to have any contact with magical people because she wouldn't understand us. But with her entry into our school, I reckoned that story had been invalidated.  
  
I watched her at she nervously slipped the sorting hat over her head. I have to admit I was slightly disappointed to see her face disappear behind the tattered fabric. I wanted to see her some more. I crossed my fingers (yes, I really did,) while she sat, waiting for the verdict. For some reason I felt as though I would give anything for her to be in Slytherin.  
  
"What's taking so long?" I whispered to no one in particular. I tried to sound as though it were a trivial matter to me, this girl. I didn't want anyone to think that I actually cared where a person ended up. Goyle grunted something in reply, but I didn't hear him; my mind was too clouded with thoughts of this girl. 'Man, I'm losing it.' I thought.  
  
When the hat shouted "Slytherin!" I nearly grinned. I say nearly because I'm not the grinning type; it requires too much interest in others. I smirk a lot. Smirking displays apathy, and I have a lot of that.   
  
I did, however, allow myself to stand up and introduce myself to Marsea as she walked over to the Slytherin table. She smiled, and I nearly doubled over. Her eyes were a mix of swirling blues and greens, and I wondered how no one could notice that this girl was magical from head to toe. She practically glowed. It was right then and there that I realized it was going to be hard to stay apathetic toward this girl.  
  
***  
  
"I'm-" Marsea started to say.  
  
"Marsea Brooklyn, yes I know." Said the pale boy, holding out his hand. "It's good to meet you, finally. Come sit here next to me." He nodded to Goyle, who shifted down on the bench, causing an infuriated Pansy Parkinson to fall off the end and onto the ground. She glared as Marsea walked by her and tried to lend her a hand.   
  
"I don't need your help." Spat Pansy. Marsea raised her eyebrows and walked away.  
  
"So," said Draco as Marsea neared him. "You're new then? Where are you from?" He, of course, knew the answer; he just didn't want her to know that.  
  
"Brooklyn Manor, of course." She smiled. "But you know that, don't you, Malfoy?"  
  
He sputtered a little, then caught himself. "How would I-?"  
  
"Your mum and mine are- er, were friends." She looked down. "I know who you are because of your parents. I never knew that you all were-" she didn't know quite how to say 'wizards,' it just sounded too odd, even considering everything that had happened to her over the past two days.  
  
"Magical?" he finished her sentence.   
  
Just then Dumbledore's voice boomed again. He had been talking to the severe-looking Professor McGonagall, but returned his attention to the students, who were bust chattering amongst themselves.   
  
"You may all go back to class now, I trust that Miss Brooklyn is in good hands. Teachers, I am sorry for this disturbance." He walked over to the Slytherin table and smiled faintly as he looked at Marsea. "I hope that you will enjoy being a student here, Miss Brooklyn. I am sure that Mister Malfoy can show you around." He waved goodbye and walked away briskly.  
  
Draco turned to Marsea as Dumbledore walked away. "If he seems less than warm toward you, don't take it personally. He doesn't particularly like us Slytherins, and I'm sure he would rather you were a Gryffindor. They kiss his bum all the time." He said, as though reading her mind.   
  
She nodded, still feeling slightly hurt by the Professor's change in attitude toward her. At least she had made a friend, though.  
  
A greasy, hook-nosed man appeared behind them a moment later. "Well," he said coldly, but smiling a bit, "It's good that we have a new Slytherin in our midst. I trust you will fit in well here, Miss Brooklyn. Just follow Mister Malfoy's advice and you can't go wrong. Now, let's get back to class shall we?" He walked away.  
  
"That's Professor Snape." Whispered Draco as the man walked away. "He's head of Slytherin, and the Potions teacher, which is our class right now. He's a mean, nasty man, but he favors us, and hates the Gryffindors, so that's a plus." He smiled, holding his arm out to her. "Shall we go then?"  
  
Marsea smiled back, taking his arm. "I can't wait."  
  
***  
  
"I don't want to go back to Potions." Whined Hermione Granger as she and her friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley got up to leave. "I hate that awful class."  
  
"Oh, well it's my absolute favorite, Herm." Said Ron sarcastically. "I wish we could sit all day and listen to Snape lecture about how worthless we are, and how Malfoy is a model student."  
  
"There's no need to be snippy, Ron." Said Hermione in her usual know-it-all voice. "I was just stating-"  
  
"Whining."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You weren't 'stating', you were whining." Said Ron, exasperatedly, poking her in the chest. "And as far as I can remember, whining never got us out of Potions, so let's go."  
  
Harry Potter smiled at them, chucking to himself. "You two sound like an old married couple."  
  
They both turned to him, mouths agape.  
  
He held his hands up in defense. "Hey! I didn't mean anything by it, it's an expression." They kept looking at him indignantly, so the turned toward the dungeons, where the potions class was held. They could see the last few stragglers leaving the hall on their way to class. Many of them looked unhappy that the school meeting hadn't taken more than 15 minutes.  
  
"Come on, you guys." Said Harry, heading for the dungeon. "I want to see what the new girl is like anyway."  
  
Ron walked up behind him. "She didn't strike me as a Slytherin," he said casually.  
  
"You mean she doesn't look like an ogre?" asked Hermione haughtily.  
  
"No, she certainly doesn't." Said Harry quietly enough for only Ron to hear. He sniggered.  
  
"What are you two on about?" accused Hermione as they made their way down into the cold recesses of the dungeon. The air was dropping at least a degree with every step that they took.  
  
"Nothing." Said Ron, smiling slyly. "Nothing at all."  
  
***  
  
"I'm sure you'll like Slytherin." Draco was saying as he led Marsea farther and farther into the underbelly of the castle. Crabbe and Goyle were walking well behind them; Draco had completely lost any interest in them the minute he started talking to Marsea. They were grunting to each other in low undertones as Draco showed Marsea each and every thing that there was to see on their way to potions.  
  
"That there," He whispered as they strolled by a stone wall that looked just like the rest of the stone walls in the castle, "Is the entrance to the Slytherin common room. It's very nice looking once you get inside. I'll show you later. Although, it's nothing compared to my house back home." He beamed as he talked about his wealth. "I reckon yours it quite large as well?"  
  
"I suppose so." Said Marsea, smiling. She knew for a fact that her home was nearly twice the size of Malfoy Manor. She had been to Draco's "house" before, when her mother had gone to meet Draco's mother, Narcissa. It was enormous. Brooklyn Manor was obscenely gargantuan.  
  
They walked down several more corridors, finally reaching a room where Marsea could see a faint glow coming from many steaming cauldrons.   
  
"Welcome to potions class." Said Draco, waving his hand about like a model from 'The Price is Right'. "I sit over here." He crossed the room and motioned for her to sit down. All the heads in the room turned to examine Marsea as she crossed and peered into the cauldron placed on their dark oak desk.  
  
"What is that?" She asked, turning to Draco. "It looks horrid."  
  
"That, is Pariculus Serum. It causes blindness." Said a cold voice behind her. She turned around to see the greasy, hook-nosed vulture of a man that she had met earlier. He was sneering, but looked pleased as he eyed her up and down.  
  
"Oh." She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "Thank you, professor."   
  
"You certainly are 'nice-looking' for a Slytherin." He said. "We don't have a lot of blonde girls, nor attractive ones, as you can see."   
  
Marsea nervously looked around the room at the other Slytherin girls. He was right of course, but the way he was standing so close made her nervous..  
  
"Erm, I suppose we should start class, then?" She asked, forcing a smile.  
  
"Yes, I suppose we should." He turned away and slid to the front of the room, turning once again toward the class. "Well then, as you can see, we have been joined by Miss Brooklyn, the newest Slytherin. She will be joining our class from now on, and along with Mister Malfoy, I'm sure she will make a stunning addition to our class."  
  
Just then, three kids came stumbling into class.   
  
"Late again, You three?" Sneered Snape. "Twenty points from Gryffindor. Take your seats."  
  
One, with flaming red hair, shot Snape a glare that would freeze their Pariculus Serum. Apparently, Snape didn't notice. The three kids took their seats in the table farthest from where Marsea and Draco were sitting. Crabbe and Goyle had seated themselves on the other side of Draco.  
  
The class ending after only twenty minutes and only Neville Longbottom had managed to melt his cauldron. That was the second one that day.   
  
Marsea stood up and walked with Draco toward the door, listening to him discussing everything that she would be in for the Hogwarts.  
  
"Did I tell you that I play Quidditch for Slytherin?" he said proudly. Then, noting the look on confusion on Marsea's face he said "Well of course you don't know about quidditch. You've been kept away from our world, but I'll tell you. Quidditch is our most popular game. I suppose it's kind of like, what do you call it? Football? We fly around on broomsticks and pass a leather ball around, and try not to get hit by the bludgers. Oh, it's very dangerous." He looked at her seriously, as though she should be worried that he may get hurt. "And I've got the most important position. I'm seeker, I go around and try to catch the Golden Snitch, which is this tiny little winged thing. It's very difficult, especially when you've got Potter over there trying to sabotage me." He pointed at one of the boys who had come in late, who was also headed for the door. He had wild hair and thick glasses. "Oh, he's harmless, of course, but it really slows me down when I've got him trying to knock me off of my broom, you know what I mean?"  
  
"Uh, yeah." She said, raising her eyebrows. "No, I don't know what you mean, I've never ridden a broomstick."  
  
"Well, that's easily remedied. I'll teach you this afternoon." She smiled brightly.  
  
Marsea was looking back at him, not looking at where she was going when  
  
"Ow! Watch what you're doing!"   
  
She had trodded on an angry-looking girl with bushy brown hair, who was scowling at her.  
  
"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry." Said Marsea, trying to smile. She held out her hand. "I'm Marsea-"  
  
"I know who you are." Said the brown-haired girl. "And you Slytherins are all the same. Never thinking about other people, always stepping on them."  
  
"But I didn't- I apologized!" Said Marsea, getting angry. "I didn't step on you on purpose!"  
  
"Look, I don't care." Said the girl coldly.  
  
"Hermione, let's go!" Yelled Harry Potter. "It's lunch and I'm starved."  
  
The girl threw one last cold look at Marsea and stomped away.  
  
"What was that about?" Asked Marsea, turning back to Draco.   
  
"She's a pill, that Granger. She's had it out for Slytherins since the beginning. Plus," he said, smiling. "She hates girls who are prettier than her. That leaves her with Potter and Weasley.  
  
  
***Okay everyone, that was chapter 4. I hope you enjoyed it! Please review.  
Next chapter: Mystery!! Intrigue!! A Quidditch Lesson!! Diagon Alley!! And, what's up with Snape?  
  
  
  
  



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